


It's been 9 Years

by StitchesgetBitches



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Gen, RIP, but i think we both know what happens, im not gonna say what happens, it's sad, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-22
Updated: 2017-02-22
Packaged: 2018-09-26 05:36:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9867698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StitchesgetBitches/pseuds/StitchesgetBitches
Summary: It’s been 9 years.9 years with nothing to show for it. He hasn’t gotten prettier, he hasn’t gotten smarter, he hasn’t even done something as small as ease his horrific awkwardness or get his stutter down. He’s 23 fucking years old and he’s still living in the same room he grew up in. Summer’s at college, graduating soon. She’s really making something of herself, y’know? Really getting out there. He’s still here. He barely got through high school, having to repeat freshman year once because Rick wasn’t around to pull out some gadget that magically handled his absences.It’s been 9 years.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah I was so vague about what happens in this I doubt anyone actually will click it but haha yeah thanks if u did hope u like

It’s been 9 years. 

9 years with nothing to show for it. He hasn’t gotten prettier, he hasn’t gotten smarter, he hasn’t even done something as small as ease his horrific awkwardness or get his stutter down. He’s 23 fucking years old and he’s still living in the same room he grew up in. Summer’s at college, graduating soon. She’s really making something of herself, y’know? Really getting out there. He’s still here. He barely got through high school, having to repeat freshman year once because Rick wasn’t around to pull out some gadget that magically handled his absences. 

It’s been 9 years. 

Morty is lying in his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. He was kind of upset, though he isn’t sure why. Just one of those morning where you open your eyes and you just   
things are gonna start to get shitty. But the thing is, it’s such a vague feeling. It could be a ‘you’re about to miss your bus and you’ll have to sprint to school’ shitty, or it could be a ‘you’re hit by a bus and lose half your brain and still you “miraculously” survive but now you’re fucking empty’ shitty. 

It was an hour or two of just staring, procrastinating what would come no matter how long he waited for it to stay away. He gets up, grabbing a bright yellow shirt, some underwear, and jeans and makes his way to the bathroom. He takes his time. He takes his time to rake his fingers over his scalp with shampoo so many times his head starts feeling raw. He takes his time scrubbing his body so long he may just have shed the whole top layer of skin. He takes his time staring at the tile for so long water that was so hot it had left his skin red is now so cold each drop feels like a bullet. 

He takes his time getting dressed, brushing his teeth, drying his hair. He takes his time putting on socks, lacing up his shoes. He takes his time doing everything he can to put off whatever blow is about to get him right in the chest. Every breath feels heavier than the last and if he didn’t know better he’d think he was about to suffocate. But relax, it’s fine. You can’t suffocate on nothing. 

Finally he makes his way downstairs. He keeps his eyes on each step, eyes lifting slowly as he turns at the bottom of the stairs, but then suddenly everything is in slow motion. His feet feel like they’re hovering just above the ground, the gazes from his parents as well as   
turn towards him. The tears rolling down his mothers cheeks and ruining her make up seem to have slowed to a complete stop. His dad seems casual, unaffected by whatever just broke his mother so hard. If he didn’t know better, he’d think he even sees a glimmer of subtle satisfaction in his eyes. 

Suddenly, he knows what he’s about to hear. And the world speeds up again. 

The room seems to fall suddenly quiet, and everyone is staring at him. He hears his mother sniffle loudly, shaking hands clutching very desperately onto a glass of red wine, before whimpering his name. His chest feels like it’s caving in, the lump in his throat feels so big it’s like he’s choking on stone. 

Don’t do this. 

The agent, a relatively humanoid looking agent crosses the room towards him as his mom collapses into herself, his dad wrapping a sympathetic arm around her, even though he doesn’t have any sympathy. The agent draws in his attention with a gentle hand on his shoulder, but Morty’s reaction is anything but immediate. His gaze slowly drifts from his parents to the officer, as if he was trying to memorize every detail of the trip from them to the agent. 

As if he were procrastinating, still, what he’d procrastinated since he woke. 

“Morty Smith, I know you and your grandfather had a very close relationship, it must have been hard letting him go like that,” His gaze is soft, but Morty just stares. Just say it. Stop working him up to it he can’t do this just say it just say it just- “Recently your grandfather had been suffering with kidney failure. Being a convict on a long list of needy recipients of healthy kidneys, he was unable to make it until a donor could be secured. He died earlier this morning, 3:46 AM. I’m sorry for your loss.” 

Beth is crying harder, Jerry forcing his brows up in some sick mockery of sadness, lip pouted out. Morty takes a minute to find something to say, almost deciding on not saying anything. But then, with a sandy voice and a vacant gaze, he mutters, “Don’t worry about it.” 

He turns, going back up the stairs and locking himself in his room. He locks the door behind him, sitting down and just waiting. He wasn’t sure what for for a while, until he vaguely caught onto his dad and the officers saying their goodbyes. From there, once the door shut, he he heard tires moving farther and farther away, his emotions just went fucking insane. 

He was overwhelmed, he was so angry, so sad, so   
, so fucking everything. Why was Rick dead? Why did this have to happen to him? If he were here he would have been able to fix himself up! He could have fixed himself up! But no he fucking ran off and turned himself in and broke mom   
and he couldn’t even stop there! He can’t give her a fucking break! Now he’s gone and fucking   
and- fuck!! Fuck fuck fuck! Fuck him!! Fuck him fuck him fuck himfuckhimfuckhimf

 

He doesn’t know what happened between then and now, but it looks like it was a lot. To clarify, ‘then’ was him screaming in his own head ‘fuck him’ and now is him lying on the ground with his head to his mothers chest while she shakes and cries and his dad stares from the doorway. She’s clutching him so tight he may just bruise, and god his room is a mess. His bookshelf is toppled over, most of the contents of his desk on the floor as well as most of anything that would be on any surface. His lamp was knocked over, his alarm clock across the room- everything is just   
in some disturbing way. 

It’s so fucking wrong. This is all wrong. Rick should be here. He should be here right now he should- he should just walk right in that fucking door and shove Jerry aside and drink from his flask like he’s some special kind of asshole and ask why him and his mom are having a pussy party. Rick should be here he should   
! 

He doesn’t understand why his mom is crying even harder, or why she’s started rocking, until he realizes he’s been saying it out loud. He’s begun hysterically sobbing and crying ‘Rick should be here’ and he’s become absolutely pathetic. He doesn’t- Rick probably wouldn’t even justify this with attention. He’d take one look, roll his eyes, and move on to the next room. Fuck him, fuck Rick- he should   
. 

Somewhere in the middle of his tears and mumbling, he runs dry. He’s out of gas. No tears, no crying, no sadness. Just this empty feeling he can’t shake. Funny enough, every absent sniffle feels like it’s rattling all of his insides, like a strong gust of air wooshing through a cave that goes on for miles and miles and miles. He feels tired. He is tired. 

He closes his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> RICK AND MORTY FOR A HUNDRED YEARS, RICK AND MORTY  
> Except it was like,, 2 bye


End file.
